4:00
by radishface
Summary: George goes to Yamamoto's house for tea, and they wind up doing a little bit more. [SLASH/YAOI]


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4:00

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Disclaimers: Paradise Kiss belongs to Ai Yazawa and Tokyopop. 

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Warnings and rants: Spoilers for book four, and SLASH/YAOI. 

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Summary: George, Yamamoto and tea on a Sunday afternoon. And a little more. 

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Radishface

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It is four in the afternoon when George comes over.

The doorbell rings, and Yamamoto springs out of his chair. He has been sitting on that chair by the door for ten minutes now, waiting for George to come. He had called him yesterday and had asked it he could come over. Of course Yamamoto had said yes. Isn't George his best friend at school? Sebastian ventures out into the foyer and smiles at him, and Yamamoto shakes his head. He wants to open the door. So Sebastian bows politely and walks away again, murmuring something to himself. 

He opens the door, and George is standing there. Today he is wearing a turtleneck with a red coat with no buttons on it, but there is a design of criss-crosses running up the front. Yamamoto wonders if George did it himself, and almost asks. He stops himself just in time because of _course_ he knows George does all his own designing, that he must have designed this outfit as well. It's very simple today, not like that miniature version of the lord's squire he wore yesterday. 

And George says hello to him, and smiles, and Yamamoto feels special. At school, George doesn't smile often, he sits back in class and he looks at the people around him. Well, of course he smiles at school. He smiles at the teachers when they ask him where his homework is. And then they forget all about it. Oh, but the smiles he gives Yamamoto are different. They're not trying to trick him out of anything. He doesn't think. 

Sebastian comes back to ask him a question, will they be drinking tea out on the gazebo today, or the terrace? And he doesn't know what he says, but he thinks it sounds like _gazebo._ It's such a funny word, and Sebastian leaves. He's still looking at George, the way George's eyes seem to laugh inside, which means he's happy. 

Yamamoto offers to take George's coat so he can ask him something without staring at him like an idiot. George smiles and takes his coat off, and Isabella hangs it up on the coat rack.

So they go outside, where the tea is already there, slightly cooled, since it's a hot day. They could be drinking lemonade, but George insists on tea. He insisted on tea yesterday when they were talking on the phone. George visits almost every day now, because his mother doesn't really care where he goes. George has somebody to take of him, Yamamoto thinks, just like Sebastian takes care of him. He's not very sure, but since George comes over every day, it's like they take care of each other. 

It was George's fourteenth birthday just a few weeks ago, and Yamamoto remembers how George had decided not to have one, and Yamamoto had been a little sad. He had given George his present anyway, and George had accepted it with bright, thoughtful eyes and then had invited him over for tea. His mother was out of the house, he had said. He was in the house alone. Yamamoto wonders how often George is home alone. 

So it was like their own birthday celebration, except there was no cake. 

It's a sunny day today, it's spring. There's not a cloud in the sky, and all around them is the estate, the house, the gardens. The gardener comes once every three days to water, to trim, and it looks wonderful, Yamamoto thinks, as he sits down and picks up the milk and pours a little of that into his tea, watching the white swirl around in his cup. He adds the sugar, and looks at the rose bushes scattered here and there, the willow tree's branches waving slightly in the breeze. 

George catches him looking there and asks, "do you want to go sit there?" and Yamamoto says "yes," because he's never really been able to control what he wants to say and what he's actually supposed to say. But his mother and father aren't here right now, they're always away, so it doesn't matter what words come out of his mouth, or what he does. 

So they bring their tea tray over to the willow tree, and lean against the trunk, the curtain of leaves providing a certain shelter from them, so it's like their own place, where nobody can get them. 

And they finish their tea, and they set the tray aside, to Yamamoto's right, and then George sits there, contemplating, and Yamamoto keeps his hands curled in fists by his side, so that they're holding him up as he sneaks a look at George out of the corner of his eye, at his hair, which is blue, because George wanted it that way. His mother hadn't said anything about it, or at least Yamamoto didn't hear anything about it from George. He thinks, if I dyed my hair blue, my parents would have a fit. 

George starts telling Yamamoto about his latest girlfriend. This is the second-- no, third time Yamamoto has heard about her. She's pretty, George says, but not pretty enough. And then he tells Yamamoto about how they kissed, when they kissed, and how long they kissed. He thinks it's funny, but he doesn't laugh. Yamamoto watches him a sort of horrid fascination, because he's never kissed a girl before himself. He doesn't know why he hasn't done it, gotten a girlfriend, or girlfriends, like George has always done. 

Yamamoto knows that he never needs to wonder who George's girlfriends are, because they come as quickly as they go. George only talks about them, calls them _she _and _her_ and whenever he changes girlfriends, he always says _she_ and _her_ in a different way, so Yamamoto knows. 

And then George goes into detail about how it was different when it was kissing her, and how her lips had tasted like the canned peaches they had at lunch, how her hand had somehow found its way onto his shoulder, and how he had put his own hand behind her neck to pull her closer to him. He tells Yamamoto that he had opened his eyes when they were kissing and he had looked at her, and her eyes were closed. He tells Yamamoto that he had then closed his eyes again and it was like everything was normal. 

"Normal how?" Yamamoto insists, and forgets about his tea. George looks back at him and smiles. 

"I don't know." His smile is enigmatic, and he means for it to be that way, Yamamoto realizes, and frowns in mild annoyance, his brow furrowing as he stares on the ground. 

"Normal how?" Yamamoto asks again, and then George looks at him, a strange look in his blue eyes, and Yamamoto finds himself wondering how George's eyes can look like they're real even if they're hiding behind contact lenses. 

"Normal is boring." George says, and leans in, and Yamamoto finds that George's breath is warm on his cheek. "When it's normal afterwards, it's like nothing ever happened." He smiles, and the smile is gentle, not judging, not like he looks at other people. "When it's normal, that means that there's nothing there, that there never will be." 

"Oh," Yamamoto says, and then George leans in and kisses him lightly on the cheek, and he can feel his face going on fire, but oh, it's a strange feeling, to have somebody's lips on your face, to feel everything concentrated on that one point, and to think of nothing else. Distantly, Yamamoto wonders if George feels the same way. 

Yamamoto realizes that he's closed his eyes, and that when he opens then, George's are open as well, as if they had been the whole time. And they're both a little flushed, high spots of color on George's normally pale face. And then George closes his eyes and Yamamoto closes his eyes as well and they kiss, clumsily, awkwardly, and it's hard to believe that George hasn't done this before. 

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Maybe because it's not a normal situation, Yamamoto thinks to himself. 

George's lips are slightly from the tea, from the sugar he added into it, Yamamoto realizes. He tastes like tea and he tastes like how he smells-- clean and fresh. He opens his mouth slightly and George's tongue slides in, slick and warm and Yamamoto gives a shiver, reaching up for George's shoulder. He sighs as the kiss deepens, as George pushes him a little so that he's leaning against the back of the tree, the bark digging through his clothes into his back. It isn't unpleasant, and then George breaks away, a finger running across the top button of Yamamoto's shirt. 

"Nice?" He asks, mock-innocent, and Yamamoto blinks, and then nods, because that's all he can do. His hands are on George's shoulders, and he wonders when he did it, and then decides that he doesn't really care, and that he's suddenly grateful for the drooping branches on the willow tree, obscuring them from view of the household.

When Sebastian calls for them they've already put their clothes back on, are already talking like they would have before. And the teacups are set back on the tray and George has tried to smooth his hair back into place and protests when Yamamoto says he doesn't care about his own. And when George buttons Yamamoto's shirt Yamamoto flushes again, and finds it a little harder to breathe.

It's six in the evening when George leaves. 

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I believe this is a landmark of its kind… the first George/Yamamoto (or Isabella) fanfic here… sort of. I mean, is it really slash? Well, habeas corpus and all that… Yamamoto's still a boy when this takes place. Actually, he'll forever _be_ a guy… but… whatever. It's fun to play. 

Please C&C! I thrive on it. ^^ And if you feel like flaming, go for it, I guess. 


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